Brouhaha
by Maygin
Summary: The second installment... it all goes downhill from here folks. If you haven't read Hoodwink this won't make sense, so check that out first.


**Brouhaha**

By: Maygin

Summary: The second installment to Hoodwink… it only goes downhill from here folks. If you haven't read Hoodwink, this won't make sense… it doesn't make sense anyways, and though I'm loathe to admit it, I did write it, therefore I must post it so that others may suffer in this mindless crap as well ;)

Disclaimer: I am not making any money off of nor do I own anything supernatural… other than my roommate.

**Brouhaha**

"And in our top story today, the body of Charles Darnassus, reported missing over two weeks ago was found buried in a sand pit at the south end of Central Park. Witnesses say the body was accidentally discovered during a _scuffle_ between two young men." "It was scary… I mean they seemed pretty young, rolling around in the sand and stuff, and then there was this head just sitting there… I don't know… I hope they're okay." "Oh man I thought those guys were gonna kill each other. They looked like stunt-guys the way they were fightin. I tried to break em up but then there was the dead guy and all." "Police say the missing persons report was filed by a neighbor when Darnassus' garbage cans weren't removed from the end of his drive-way for an entire week…"

"Darnassus?" Dean repeated mockingly.

"This is ridiculous." Sam said testily. "A man has been missing for two weeks, come to find out he'd been murdered and buried in a State Park… and all people seem to care about is the fact that two young guys were duke-ing it out."

"Dude… Darn – asses!" Dean emphasized while chuckling.

Sam turned a skeptical look to his brother. "There is something wrong with you mentally."

"Oh come on Sam," Dean reasoned, "with all the crap going on in the world today, you've gotta look for humor in the bad things."

"Have you tried your underwear drawer lately?"

"Dude-" Dean held a hand up, all humor gone, "I'm not gonna say it again… those were already in the machine when I went to use it." He paused, and gestured with his hands for dramatic effect. "Clothes went in… clothes came out… clothes went directly into duffle bag. I don't fold each piece of clothing all nice and neat un-like some psychopaths."

"It's not psychotic Dean. It's what normal people do; they wash their clothes, they dry their clothes, and then they fold their clothes."

"What – is – the – point! They get stuffed in a duffle-bag and shoved around in the trunk of a car, they're gonna get wrinkled anyways!"

"Not if you fold them right." Sam reasoned as he shut the power off the television and leaned back against the pile of pillows he had acquired with little problem from the maid service. Dean however had yet to receive his… his rather impatient demand probably hadn't helped either. "And if you had folded your clothes you would've discovered the fuzzy pink g-string mixed in."

"Hey, Joan Cleaver, toss me the Tylenol."

"Get it yourself." Sam sighed.

"It's on your side of the nightstand."

"We're drawing lines now?"

"Come on man," Dean whined, "I can't move."

"Your mouth seems to be moving just fine."

Dean growled and turned his head to stare at the ceiling. He suddenly smirked as an evil thought popped into his head. His good angel reminded him of his promise never to do it again while outside the confines of his precious Impala… however his better side, the little devil was so very insistent. He pressed his lips together and ever-so-quietly began humming.

Sam paused as his peace and quiet was suddenly interrupted by a soft droning noise. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying… trying so very hard to block it out. He wasn't going to give… he just wasn't. He knew exactly what his brother was doing and he wasn't going to crack.

Dean shifted into 'Master of Puppets' and suddenly a small white bottle was hurtling at his head. He chuckled as his triumph, opening the bottle and downing two more.

Sam achingly slid to the edge of the bed with a frown planted firmly on his face. "You promised."

"You forced my hand bro."

"You swore upon the holy hand grenade." He argued without turning from his current task of getting to his feet.

Dean winced for his brother's sake; it was reason numero uno why he wasn't moving a muscle. It was also why he wasn't drinking anything; he didn't want to chance having to move from his current position when the liquids decided to make their exit. "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving."

"What?"

"You promised." Sam said matter-of-factly.

"It was an accident." Dean reasoned.

"You hummed a Metallica song by accident?"

"Well I haven't exactly been thinking too clearly since _someone_ dumped me off an eight foot embankment onto my back."

Sam turned at this with a challenging look. "You wanna compare bruises?"

"Would you stay if we did?"

Sam rolled his eyes and once more turned towards his destination. "I'm taking a shower."

"Ha, I knew you weren't leaving."

"Dean?" Sam called back from inside the bathroom.

"Yeah?"

"Touch my pillows and I _will_ shoot you."

Dean guiltily withdrew his outstretched arm… a little perturbed at his transparency. "You're becoming a bit of a grouch. Maybe we should paint you green and dump you in a trashcan." He called out to closed door.

Sam laughed from inside the bathroom. "Well that would require actual movement on your part Snuffy."

"Whatever." Dean argued. "If I'm anyone I'm Animal."

"Animal isn't from Sesame Street, he's from the Muppet Show."

"So?"

Sam opened the door so his argument came through more clearly. "So, Oscar the Grouch and Snuffleupagus are from Sesame Street, Animal is from the Muppet Show. You can't mix your shows. It's like… making your dream team out of baseball players from different eras."

"What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with it is that I'm actually having an argument with my idiot brother over friggin puppets!" Sam slammed the bathroom door shut.

Dean listened to the shower come to life. "You woulda made a great lawyer Sam." Dean yelled loudly with pride, a huge smile on his face. He shifted slightly and listened to the thrumming of the water rushing through the pipes in the wall, falling into a light sleep. His eyes flew open however when the sides of his bed suddenly depressed as if someone had sat down. Had he not been so sore from the scuffle earlier he would've had his knife out from under his single pillow already.

"What the-" Dean pressed back into his bed, staring wildly at the very real dead man kneeling over him, suddenly pinning him down. He paused briefly as something clicked. "Darn-asses?"

"NOO!" The ghost screamed in his head. "You're saying it wrong! Everyone always says it wrong! My entire life was a joke!"

"Hey man," Dean chuckled nervously, "sounds like you got some personal issues you need to work out, you know… on your own bed."

"It was my moment! My one chance in life to be recognized… and YOU RUINED IT!"

Dean grimaced as tiny pricks of ice seemed to be shooting into his wrists where the spirit had him in its grasps. "Okay, you're pissed… I can see that. Didn't you- ascend… er, something?" he tried to stall. His eyes glanced to his duffle bag across the room… if only. "How the hell did you find us?"

The phantasm's eyes flickered with fire as it snarled close to Dean's face. "Your brother…"

If Dean hadn't been fully cognizant before, he was certainly wide awake now. "What about him?"

Darnassus seemed to swell with fiery energy as he spoke. "He's a beacon… a narcotic for the paranormal. We're drawn to him," his ghostly appearance flickered, "why do you think I followed you in the park?"

Dean swallowed; this was definitely the last thing he wanted to hear. The theory had always been there… but now factual proof was staring him in the face, literally. "Look Charles, I'm sorry we screwed up your fifteen minutes of fame," Dean reasoned in his best Sammy impression, "but if it hadn't been for us you'd still be buried in a sand pit with dogs crappin on your head!" …so he still had a bit of work to do on his Sammy impression.

The dead business man fluctuated with energy, barring his teeth and screaming in rage. Dean grimaced as the ice needles turned into ice picks. Too late he noticed the shower had stopped running, and even worse, the bathroom door opened and out walked his little brother. Dean felt rather than saw the swell of negative energy once more flare to life in the spirit as it noticed his brother's entrance; a feral grin maligning it's face.

"SAM!" Dean struggled valiantly with the poltergeist that was now trying to leap off the bed.

Sam's head jerked around at his brother's cry. His exhausted brain took in the poltergeist fighting his brother before he growled out a frustrated sigh, took a tired step towards his brother's duffel bag, pulled out the sawed off shot gun, and fired with hardly aiming. The rock salt imbedded in the phantasm's face, fire shooting out of the pores before Charles Darnassus disappeared with a hellish scream. Dean turned wide eyes towards his little brother.

"Sileo in pacis." Sam muttered as he made a careless cross with the smoking gun. He then tossed it back into the bag before collapsing on his bed with a deep, grateful sigh.

Dean watched his brother silently. "You're a little frightening."

Without looking, Sam pointed a finger towards his brother, "Don't you forget it."

Dean shifted on the bed to a sitting position, still watching his younger sibling, mildly wary. "Dude seriously… you're starting to scare me."

"Well maybe you'll remember that the next time you swear on the holy hand grenade."

Dean blinked, "You just killed Charles like he was yesterday's news."

"He _is_ yesterday's news."

Dean looked at his wrist-watch, realized he didn't have one on, and then picked up his cell phone glancing at the 1 am blinking back at him. He dropped his phone back on the nightstand and licked his lips with a sigh, "Where does the time go?" he mumbled. "So," he folded his hands in his lap, "are you even remotely interested in what Charles _Darn-ASSES_ was doin here?" he yelled the specters last name hoping he'd hear him in whatever hell he'd been transported to.

"Nope."

"Really? …cuz he had some interesting things to say about you." Dean felt a tiny flicker of justification as his brother slowly opened his eyes. The flicker was instantly snuffed out however as he caught site of the confused and lost look in his younger siblings eyes that roamed the ceiling.

"Dean?" Sammy whispered.

"Yeah?" Dean's insides twisted, unsure.

"Do you think…" Sam broke off hesitantly.

"What is it Sammy?" Dean coerced softly.

"Do you think… Dad knows you wear a g-string?"

Dean launched his one and only pillow as hard as he could at his brothers still form. "You're a real rat bastard you know that!"

"Cuz I will so tell on you." Sam laughed as he curled up around the pillow that had none-to-gently socked him in the gut.

"God!" Dean ran a hand through his hair venting his frustration. He paused suddenly in his pacing with an evil look in his eye. Sam stopped laughing.

"Dean don-"

The eldest Winchester suddenly launched himself at the youngest. The resulting bounce from the sudden weight on the mattress sent both boys tumbling to the floor, each struggling for the upper hand once more. Only this time there were no spectators.

Except of course for the young house-keeping maid that had opened the door when no-one answered. The boys had halted in their wrestling, arms and legs entangled, as they heard the feminine gasp above them.

"Oh meu dues." The girl covered her mouth, eyes wide in fear.

Dean and Sam quickly extricated themselves from the other, clearing their throats and patting their hair down. Sam had half a mind to run and hide in the bathroom when he realized he was clad in only his boxers. Dean had as much plus a t-shirt… but his older brother much preferred being naked when it came to women anyways.

"Hi." Dean spit out, turning on the charm. Unfortunately he over-shot and instead sounded like a cave-man who'd just discovered women. He ignored the wide-eyed look of concern his brother shot him and cleared his throat, leaning casually against the door frame. "I'm Dean." He said more casually.

The small Brazilian woman continued to bat her wide frightened eye lashes at them.

"It's okay," Sam stepped in hoping to avoid further confusion, "we were just fooling around."

The hot brunette suddenly lost her damsel in distress look and rolled her eyes in frustration muttering something in Portuguese before blurting out in a heavy accent, "Two handsome guiees finally come to dis hell hole and they end up being fahking Bert and Ernie!"

Dean's eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?"

"Uh, we're not gay." Sam clarified quickly.

The maid threw the extra pillows at them and walked off grumbling to herself and the world around her. "Minha mãe era direita, se não fossem feitos exame já, eles era gay!"

Dean hugged his extra pillows to his chest and warily stuck his head out into the open air. "Is there a full moon or something?"

Sam sighed and made his way back to his bed. "No," he ground out as he painfully cataloged all the new bruises that were no doubt forming as he crawled beneath the bed sheets, "it's a waning quarter moon."

Dean closed the door, bolted it and turned, staring at his brother. "Where the hell do you keep it all?" he asked incredulously.

"What?" Sam murmured into one of his many pillows.

"You mean to tell me you actually took the time to memorize the _phases of the moon calendar_?"

Sam tiredly pushed himself up on an elbow so he could better face his brother. "What's Jessica Simpson's favorite skittle?"

"Melon berry."

Sam gave a justified nod and slowly relaxed back into his into his pillows. Dean frowned in confusion.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Good night Dean," came his little brother's mumbled voice.

Dean threw a scowl at his brother once more before also getting horizontal with his bed and many pillows. He sighed contentedly. "Oh pillows, how I love thee."

Sam snorted into his own. He pushed himself onto his back and was suddenly reminded of their little tussle. "Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?" came the sleepy response.

"Can you toss me the Tylenol please?"

Sam could practically hear the smirk creep up onto his brother's smug face. "I'm sorry, this gorgeous face has checked out for the evening."

Sam bit down on his lips and began counting to ten. At four he reached his hand out and plucked the remote control from the nightstand. He hit the power button and immediately went to his desired destination. The cheesy lounge music from the Weather Channel suddenly filled their room. Sam smiled triumphantly as the little pill bottle bounced onto his sheets. He immediately turned the tv off again and unscrewed the cap.

"Now who's breaking their promise?" Dean growled tiredly.

"You started it bro."

"We're gonna have to come up with something new… the holy hand grenade just doesn't hold the sway it once did."

"We could swear on the sanctified g-string." Sam offered.

"Shut up Sam."

Sam smiled into his pillow once more before reaching over and flipping off the light.

THE END

Question: There's a clip during the preview for the Holiday Spirits Collection that was played over the holiday weeks where Sam asks Dean if they want to build a snowman… I've only missed one episode, "Bugs" so I'm assuming it's from that one? Can anyone confirm that? It totally cracked my stuff up!


End file.
